


Before I wake

by Esinde Nayrall (red_squared)



Series: The Scorching One [13]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-02
Updated: 2005-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_squared/pseuds/Esinde%20Nayrall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius becomes a Godfather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before I wake

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [](http://thecoldacre.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://thecoldacre.livejournal.com/)**thecoldacre**. This story is about Harry's christening. The entirety of my knowledge on christenings has come from typing the words "Christening + 'Church of England'" into Google. If this story causes offence, none is intended.  
>   
> Originally posted [**here**](http://red-squared.livejournal.com/27427.html).

_As I lay me down to sleep_  
I pray the Lord my soul to keep  
If I should die before I wake  
I pray the Lord my soul to take

_June 1981_

The instructions specified he go to the largest Muggle structure amongst all of the houses and cottages. _An emergency, they all said it was urgent._ He planned to go home after he came off duty, but the four messages telling him to come here, telling him that James needs him, telling him that it is _urgent_, have reordered his priorities somewhat. _Please be all right, Prongs, I came as quickly as I could. _ Drawing his wand, he keeps it discreetly at his side as he knocks at the enormous entry doors.

The air is baking, and his robes are drenched with his sweat. _Come on, open the door._ It _has_ to be cooler inside the building than outside.

Someone opens the door a crack to peer at him suspiciously, and then the sliver of light rapidly widens as the door is flung open, sending his shadow rippling behind him. "I was given to understand that _I_ would be conducting the ceremony?" The man who's answered the door checks him out, head to toe. "You're not a Catholic, are you?"

Sirius can't think of anything to say in response except, "Pardon?"

"_Obliviate!_" His fingers clench around his wand and he has it raised instantly, before he recognises Lily's voice.

"_Stupefy!_ For fuck's sake, Padfoot -"

"James! Don't you dare use that word in here!"

" – I specifically told you to wear _Muggle_ clothing. Not your wizarding robes, and most certainly not _those_!"

Sirius glances down at his clothing – the same white wizarding robes all of the Healers' apprentices wear. He can feel his temper starting to unravel and stamps down on it at once. Whatever this is about, James wouldn't have left four messages for him unless it _was_ an emergency.

"I was told it was an emergency. I was about to get something to eat." _I was about to see my boyfriend for the first time in three days, after twenty-seven consecutive hours on duty. _ "The message said to come straight here." _None of the messages said 'Emergency, the Potters need you desperately, please dress smart casual'_. "It certainly didn't occur to me to stop home to change." _I'm sure Remus would've been impressed if I came home first, changed into clean clothes and then left without telling him where I was going_. "D'you think I had fun trying to pilot the bike in - "

"Padfoot, it _is_ an emergency," James says urgently, rocking his son to sleep with one hand, and using his other to keep his wand pointed at the Muggle.

Lily is attending to the Muggle, who is lying stupefied and obliviated one of the wooden benches that radiate out in a pie-shaped wedge from some sort of altar at the opposite end of the room. _Opposite end of the building_, he thinks, as he realises that the entire building must be made up by this single room.

Taking in his surroundings, he notices that the Muggle is also…wearing…white…robes…

"All right, what's going on?" he demands. Lily huffs impatiently, conjuring a cool, wet cloth and pressing it to the Muggle's temples.

"One of Dumbledore's spies just confirmed it, Padfoot." Instantly, his stomach tries to turn upside down, and the sweat trickling down his back has nothing to do with the heat.

"It's true then?" He doesn't need James to confirm the subject of their discussion. They've talked about little else for the past five months. "All hells, Prongs, I - "

"Sirius! Don't use words like that in here!"

Gritting his teeth, but attempting to lighten the mood, he says, "All right, but that still doesn't explain why your son's wearing a dress."

The baby can't be comfortable in that amount of… _is he wearing bloody **lace**? If it wasn't for that, I could at least pretend he was wearing a robe. _

"We're having him christened," Lily says calmly, coming toward them to take the baby from James.

It is ridiculous, but for a moment, he has the impression that she is trying to protect her son from James. To his surprise, James' jaw clenches.

Not meeting James' eye, he asks, "What do I need to do? I heard something about a ceremony?" He hates being unprepared – it usually goes hand in hand with looking like an idiot.

"All you need to do is hold Harry while Father Richard anoints him and repeat the words he tells you," Lily says, placing the baby in his arms. _Poor kid. **Lace**! I ask you…_ "However...you really can't wear _that_," Lily continues, eyeing him with distaste.

It's only after she transfigures his robes into a suit that he realises she was referring to him and not to Harry.

"It's important that all three of us have been christened," she continues, with a satisfied smile. "If Father Richard asks you, you're to say you were christened overseas, and can't remember the name of the church, because your family moved about a lot."

"You want me to lie?" he asks incredulously. This is Lily Potter nee Evans, after all.

"Don't worry, Padfoot," James says, glaring at Lily. "According to Lily, while it's unacceptable to swear in here, it's perfectly all right to lie through your teeth."

Lily continues calmly, as though James hasn't opened his mouth, "I wouldn't want you to lie, Sirius. But then, we can't always have we want. For instance, I didn't want you to come here wearing wizarding robes, but _someone_ didn't pass the right message on - "

"I TOLD MORPHEW TO TELL SIRIUS TO WEAR MUGGLE CLOTHING!"

"I said _someone_, darling. Did I say I was talking about you?"

Their son rouses and starts to fuss, and Sirius decides now might be a good time to explore the rest of the room. Shielding the baby's eyes from the disturbing paintings hung on the walls, he sits down on one of the benches, watching the lamp above the altar flicker in the stultifying night air.

The arguing increases in volume, and he turns tiredly to see James with his arms folded stubbornly across his chest, and Lily waving her arms in the air. Her face is almost as red as her hair with her eyes looking inhumanly green in comparison as she screams at her husband.

" – have done nothing but mock me, ever since I mentioned it!"

"You're the one who keeps bloody lying to the Muggle! We aren't even members of his church!"

"Yes we _are_, James! At least _I_ am, which you would _know_ if you ever paid attention to anything I said! This is the same church in which my sister and I were christened, and if you can't keep from sneering at the Muggle way of doing things, then you can just - "

"I'm not sneering because it's Muggle! I'm sneering because it's _stupid!_"

Lily's eyes narrow in fury, and she has her arms held rigid at her sides, her hands curled into fists. "Why do you have to have everything _your_ way? What's wrong with me wanting to protect my baby in every way I can?"

"IT'S ADMITTING DEFEAT," James roars back. "IT'S NOT EVEN PROPER MAGIC!"

"THEN IT'S NOT GOING TO HURT HIM!"

The baby is rubbing his face against his chest demandingly. "Sorry kiddo," he whispers softly. "I can't help you there. You'll have to wait until you mother's done yelling at your father."

_Or until she kills him – could go either way. _

"Lily - "

"I'll bet that there's nothing in all of your wizarding knowledge, nothing that I missed in my studies, nothing in the Old Magic scrolls, or even in the _Dark_ Magic scrolls," James' jaw clenches again, "that will let me see my baby again after I die, is there?"

"Lily, we are _not_ going to - "

"_Is there_?" she repeats through gritted teeth.

James looks as if he is tired of having this fight, as he concedes, "No, there isn't."

"Then _shut up_. The wizarding way isn't always the best one. Even if the worst happens, at least…" She turns to face her son and Sirius, and smiles a little. "At least this way, his soul will be safe."

"Yeah, right," James says, sitting on one of the benches and running a hand through his hair.

"What do you need me to do?" he asks Lily again, trying not to meet James' eye.

"There need to be three of us. You hold Harry," she says, pushing her hair back with one hand. The red locks are forming sweaty knots all along her hairline. "Father Richard will tell you the words you need to recite. You have to swear Harry's vows for him, and say you'll be his spiritual mentor. If you're asked anything else, just nod." He nods. "Father Richard will take some of the water from the font, and wet Harry's forehead with it as he says the ritual words."

"Water from the font?" he asks, noticing the small basin on a pedestal that he walked past on entering the room. That sounds more like it. "And his soul is safe?"

"Yes," Lily says absently, rubbing at her sweaty forehead again.

"What's so special about the water? Has something been done to it?" He's never heard of water like this before.

The narrowed, green-eyed gaze snaps to him. "What?"

"What's special about the water? What properties does it have?" Surely Muggles can't have kept something like that to themselves, without the normal world knowing about it?

"Padfoot - " James says, starting up from his seat.

Lily's entire body goes rigid with tension as her temper fans the fire in her eyes again, and she pulls the baby out of his arms.

"At least tell me where the water comes from," he says, not certain what he's done to provoke this.

To his horror, her searing anger is replaced with a detached, cold rage as she narrows her eyes at him, and snarls, "Get out."

"Lily," James calls, leaping from his seat and rushing over to her.

"I just want to know - " he starts to say, before she cuts him off.

"You don't get to know! You don't get to ask questions! You don't get to make it sound as though I don't know what I'm doing! Is that clear?" It is an effort not to snap back at her, but he's always careful about picking fights with Lily – he can never be certain whether or not James will decide to back her up or not, and he _hates_ arguing with James. "You get to stand where you're told, you get to hold Harry, and you get to be _quiet_."

"Fine," he says, trying to keep from shouting back. "Get someone else to bloody hold him, then. I'm going home."

"We can't get anyone else," James attempts once more, addressing Lily almost exclusively. "You said it couldn't be a woman, so - "

"I don't want him here!" she screams, as if he's left already, and isn't there to hear her. "Get rid of him, and tell Remus to come instead! Or Peter! Someone who can follow instructions and do as they're told, and not _question_ my intentions all the time, as if I'd ever do _anything_ to hurt my child!"

"Lily," James attempts once more, "you're not being - "

The baby starts to wail, and James looks helplessly at Sirius.

"I just want him to be safe. There's nothing, James, nothing that can protect him. Voldemort's after us, but Harry hasn't _done_ anything," she says, her anger simmering as she bobs Harry up and down, trying to get him to stop crying. Turning away from the two of them, she asks softly, "Why are you fighting me? All I want is for him to be safe."

"Lily," James says, turning her to face him once more. "I'll speak to Sirius, I'll - "

He walks away quickly, so he doesn't have to hear James apologise, or listen to them talk about him as though he isn't there. _Bloody hell, I should have brought Remus with me. He'd have known what to do._ He's almost certain he's heard Remus mention something about christenings before.

He glances curiously at the basin of water on the plinth by the entrance. Now probably isn't the best time to examine it – James is in a strop, Lily hates him, and their son is screaming. _Not bad, Padfoot, you've managed to upset all three Potters in a single evening._ Perhaps he should just go…

"Padfoot," James calls. Looking up, he sees Lily taking the baby to her breast on the other side of the room.

"What's going on, Prongs?" he asks, wondering what set any of this off. "What the fu– What _on earth_ is a christening, anyway?"

"I've no idea," James says, joining him on the uncomfortable bench. He'd put his feet up on the one in front, but Lily will probably eviscerate him.

"Then why are we here?"

James sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. "You know we had to move again," James says tiredly, pushing his glasses back up his nose. The frame sinks back into the grooves on either side of his nose, having developed over long years of short sightedness. "Marlene came over to check up on Lily yesterday, and as she left she said she didn't want to keep us, since we'd probably want to start christening the flat. I asked Lily what that meant, and now…"

"Yeah, but what does it _do_?"

"Don't even start, Padfoot, you've seen what it's like trying to get anything out of her. It's like I'm supposed to take the whole thing on faith, or it shows I don't love her."

"She said she's had it done herself…" he says slowly, trying to understand.

"As far as I can tell, it's like a naming ceremony." That sounds patently stupid to him. The child's already _had_ a naming ceremony, and in any case, you don't have naming ceremonies for children that are fast approaching their first birthday. "Yeah, I know," James says, as Sirius rolls his eyes.

"Your son's a bit old for this, isn't he?" he suggests delicately.

"According to Lily, he's not actually old enough. That's why we need you."

"Me?"

"You have to swear his vows on his behalf."

"Why can't she do it?"

"There need to be three of us."

"What about McKinnon, then?" As Lily's best friend, she probably knows more about this than the Marauders put together.

"Harry's a boy. So two of us have to be boys, too. All three of us have to say the vows for him. He'll have to confirm them when he's older," James says, still looking blankly over at Lily and the baby, without appearing to see them. "If he lives long enough. If we all do."

"Prongs…"

"But Lily says that if something happens to her, and something happens to Harry," – and there is no question as to what James is referring to when he says 'something' – "she'll be able to see him after… afterwards."

"How?"

"Because she's had it done, too. Something to do with the afterlife, I wasn't really paying attention. It all sounds like rubbish to me. Anyway, we need you to do this, because Lily's going to do everything she can to make sure Harry's safe. We say the words, Harry just has to sit there, and the Muggle anoints his head with water." James snorts softly. "Think it'll work?"

He doubts it. He's seen the patients – _victims_ – at St Mungos, suffering from magical maladies of the memory or the soul. He severely doubts that there is anything with the soul-saving properties this water is supposed to have.

"What matters is that Lily believes it, Prongs. All I have to do is hold him, right?" James looks a little sheepish. "Prongs?"

"There might be a bit more," James admits. "I'll have to check with Lily. But doesn't it sound idiotic to you? The only reason she was able to bully the Muggle into doing it was because she said Harry's life was in danger. So even by _Muggle_ standards, it isn't being done correctly," James says, sounding frustrated.

He knows that James' frustration isn't just about this. It's about the fact that this week has seen the fourth time the Potters have moved house this year. It's the fact that the Death Eaters seem to be after the Potters personally, and none of them are able to work out why.

"_Is_ Harry in danger?" What could Voldemort possibly want with an infant?

"Lily was seven weeks pregnant," James says cryptically. "I didn't even know about it until... She's not pregnant, anymore."

_Well no wonder she wants to do everything she can to protect the child she has_. He can feel his anger evaporating as he glances across the room at where Lily is shifting the baby to her other breast.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he says, feeling slightly ashamed that he has to hide from his best friend behind a polite façade, and then hating himself for feeling ashamed for that when there are more important things to worry about.

"She lost the baby on Friday," James continues, as though he hasn't heard. "The medi-witch doesn't think she'll be able to have another baby. She was sick all weekend, but she was _fine_ for the last five days. And then we had to move, but she seemed all right, you know, mentally. I don't get it, Padfoot," James whispers, sounding on the verge of tears. "She seemed all right, and then bloody McKinnon opened her mouth and Lily's been... well, you've seen her. Why is this so bloody important? How is this going to solve anything? It's just a stupid naming ceremony."

"I'm not in any position to throw stones when it comes to stupid naming ceremonies," he says, trying to change the subject. "My naming ceremony… I was only a few minutes old when my grandmother drew my blood and used it to tie me to the wards of the ancestral home."

"That's disgusting," James says, pushing his glasses back up his nose again. His face is slick with sweat, and the glasses slither down almost as soon as he takes his hand away.

"Blood! You - " He can hear the Muggle behind them, struggling to sit up, but James swears under his breath, obliviating and stupefying the Muggle without bothering to turn around.

"I don't know what _he's_ so worked up about. Lily tells me they drink blood every Sunday."

"You're not - "

"The truth, I swear it," James insists, before frowning. "At least, according to Lily."

He can see the wheels turning in James' head, knows that James is about to put his foot down at any moment.

"It's just another layer of protection," he offers, with sudden insight. "I think Lily's right," he continues carefully, watching the high colour rise in James' face. "If it works, then great. If it doesn't, what's the harm done?"

"It's giving in, like…" James stares off in the distance, as though ordering his thoughts. "As though once she takes care of this detail, it doesn't matter whether we survive or not. I don't like it. It's admitting defeat."

"No, it's preparing for defeat."

"That's the same thing."

"No it _isn't,_" he insists. "It's good sense. It doesn't matter how good your Chasers are, you still need a Keeper in case the other side try to score."

James smiles reluctantly, saying, "This is all such bollocks, Sirius. It's supposed to be a ceremony where you introduce your child to the rest of the community. And _you_ are supposed to have been christened too."

"Can't help you there, Prongs."

James snorts. "Can't see why we can't just lie about that too. She's already lied about Harry being about to die."

"It isn't lying if _she_ thinks that your son's life is in danger," he says. That is something he remembers from his own childhood, hearing Andromeda's voice in his mind again, telling him that it was only ever a lie if you didn't believe it yourself. "This is _Evans_, Prongs. She's tougher than _you_ are," he reminds James, worried deep down that James should even need reminding. "She's not going to roll over and wait to die once the ceremony's performed. That's what you're afraid of, isn't it? You _know_ she'll go down fighting."

James is slow to agree, but he does agree, nodding uncertainly. "I still think we should worry more about keeping ourselves safe in _this_ life rather than the afterlife."

"Is there any reason you can't do both?"

James frowns. "No," he concedes. "As long as you agree - "

" – not to tell anyone we had this conversation," he says, in chorus with James. It has to be said, whenever they argue with one another, if only because the rest of the world can't know that one of them was wrong about something.

"That's the spirit, Potter," he says, hauling James to his feet and leading them across the room to Lily. Lily is adjusting her shirt as they rejoin her.

"I won't say anything, promise. I'll just hold him and keep my mouth shut. You can revive Father Richard. I'll behave."

She has the unutterable gall to smile gratefully at _James_, as though James is the one who's spent fifteen minutes patiently talking his best friend around. But she hands the baby to him again, and James helps her to her feet.

"Before you agree, you should probably know that there's a bit more to it than just… Traditionally…" She turns to look back at James.

"It's not going to happen, Lily," James tells her softly.

Turning to him again, she smiles fondly at her son. "If something happens to James and I, then Harry will… You'll be responsible for Harry. You'll be his godfather. Is that…" She glances again at James, who is watching him expectantly. "Could you do that?"

He wants to say no, that this isn't fair, that it's late and he's _tired_ and in no way qualified to look after a small child. But then he remembers that nothing is going to happen to Lily or James. That this is just some stupid ceremony to soothe Lily's mind. And even if it wasn't, there is still only one answer he would ever feel comfortable giving to such a question.

"I'd be honoured," he says, forcing himself to smile reassuringly. More than the request, it is the relief on Lily's face that truly honours him – the fact that she believes that everything will be all right, now that he has given his word.

"Thank you, Sirius," she says.

James tightens his arms around her, and smiles at him too, adding, "Yeah, thanks Padfoot."

~~*~~

Apart from the memory charms, and the stunning spells, he hasn't sensed any magic since arriving.

Toward the end of the ceremony, the priest handed James a lighted candle – no doubt symbolic of something or other – that James absently handed to him before he walked the priest out the door. He doesn't want to extinguish it, or leave it behind, in case it undoes the protection they've cast tonight, so he settles onto the hard bench as comfortably as he can, staring into the centre of the flame while he waits for James to come back.

Harry shivered slightly in his arms when the priest poured a trickle of the water over his forehead and then traced a cross. _But that was because the water was cold. Surely._ He didn't feel any magic when the words were spoken, or when the priest started to recite the words "I baptise you in the name of the Father…"

He felt no sense of magic as the priest poured the water and traced the symbols on Harry's – on his _godson's_ – temple.

_Will it keep him safe?_

As far as he can tell, neither the water nor the tracing left a mark on Harry's forehead.

_He doesn't need a mark on his forehead to be safe_, Lily said rather testily, when he asked and he refrained from asking anything else in case she had him removed.

He is reluctant to place his trust in anything but his wits and his wand, and he's certain James would say the same thing if asked.

And yet…

_Lily seemed so certain_. All of her tension, all of her anger, vanished the instant he handed Harry back to her.

The candle sputters as it reaches the end of its wick. Casting a levitation charm on it, he floats it out in front of him, waiting for it to burn itself out. Warm drops of wax splish to the floor. Once the light burns out, he starts to walk out of the room and the basin catches his eye again. Checking to make sure Lily really has left with Harry, and isn't watching him accusingly, he conjures a phial and scoops up a sample of the water.

"I saw that," James says from behind. He turns around to face him, hiding the phial guiltily behind his back. "Taking it back to St Mungos to test it?"

"Home first," he says, deciding that there's no point trying to hide the phial from James and holding it up between them. "I go - " He was about to say that he goes back on duty in six hours, but changes his mind at the last minute. He doesn't want James to feel bad for having called him out here, or for James to ever hesitate before asking for his help if he needs it again. "I want to consult one of my books first."

"Perhaps we could ask Wormtail," James says, squinting at the water. Peter and he were the only two who finished Potions to N.E.W.T.s level. James' attention always wandered in class, and Remus was allergic to most of the ingredients. "Looks just like water to me," he opines dismissively.

"Yes, but almost all of the most potent potions are completely clear. I'll take it to the Muggle Liaison at St Mungos tomorrow. They might know something about it."

"Tell me if you find anything," James says, adjusting his glasses. "Not Lily, all right? Just me." He nods absently, and James at once knows his mind is elsewhere. "What is it?"

"This stuff… It's supposed to keep your soul safe, right? So how do you use it to christen a flat?"

He's disappointed when James gives him an uncertain shrug. "I haven't the faintest idea," James says vaguely. "I never even knew apartments had souls."

"Or names, for that matter," he adds.

"Would Moony know?"

_Remus probably would_, he thinks, recalling that Remus mentioned it when he first visited Sirius in what is now the flat the two of them share. He asked what it meant, but forgot all about it when Remus proceeded to fold him over the sofa and take his mind off Muggle customs.

"I think so," he says instead, pocketing the phial and wondering whether or not Remus will still be awake when he gets home. "I'll get him to show me tomorrow."

**Author's Note:**

> All comments and kudos are appreciated and treasured -- even (especially?) on a fic as old as this one!


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